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Browsing through the actual reviews, people, and especially the kind
of Love fans who consider Arthur Lee to be the coolest person to identify
with, might get the wrong impression that I really hate the band and have
established this page for a prime example of an exceedingly bad Sixties
pop ensemble. That is definitely not so. The critical and sometimes sarcastic
tone (so help me, I'm human!) is more of a counter-reaction to the kind
of recent hype that has the obvious intention to re-instate Love as one
of the BEST bands of the psychedelic epoch, California's near-adequate
answer to the Beatles, Cream, Hendrix, and the Zombies all in one. The
usual story - a band seriously underappreciated in its time, overappreciated
at the present - so it seems; however, this kind of unabashed Love worship
just seems really dangerous to me, considering that essentially all that
Love did was rip off others' ideas, not always to a good end.

I do like the band, actually. The only truly unique thing these
guys had going for them was their ability to change face at a pace even
more rapid than that of the Byrds and of David Bowie; going from Byrdseysque
folk-rock on the debut album to full-blown psychedelia on the second album
to orchestrated art-pop on the third one, desperately grappling on to every
trend, as if catching up with the times was the main purpose of the band's
existence. But in the meantime, they actually proved to possess composing
talent, with band leader Arthur Lee and, to a lesser extent, guitarist
Bryan MacLean both accomplished songwriters. Not that this fact is so desperately
obvious, either: the debut album suffers from a bit too much ripping
off, be it the Byrds, the Animals, or themselves, Da Capo is stupidly
ruined by an incompetent Stones 'Goin' Home' rip-off that takes up the
entire second side, and in the end, only Forever Changes remains
as the band's most independent and serious artistic statement. But none
of these obstacles should deviate us from acknowledging that the band had
some raw talent as well as the ability to translate it onto record with
consistently listenable effect.
Besides, Arthur Lee had a vision - no doubt about it. Out of all the California
bands, Love are perhaps the most intimately-oriented ensemble of all, mainly
due to being almost entirely dominated by one main songwriter, but also
because that one main songwriter was very keen on capturing his own emotions
and changing them into songs. Which, of course, explains why so many people
are eager to identify with Arthur's bleeding, paranoid ego on Forever
Changes, and to a certain extent, I do, too; songs like 'A House Is
Not A Motel' are certainly worthy of appraisal, despite the lack of originality.
Perhaps, had some strange calamity suddenly caused 90% of Sixties bands'
material to be destroyed and erased from people's memories, and had Love
records escaped that cruel fate, the band would definitely be easier to
appreciate. As it is, I find Love to be the best example to illustrate
the theory that originality and innovativeness IS extremely important when
assessing a band. If Love is your first or second Sixties band to get acquainted
with, a love affair is guaranteed. As it is, I have heard Love records
only after hearing most of their influences - the Beatles, the Who, the
Stones, the Byrds, the Animals, the Pretty Things, the Moody Blues, Hendrix,
Lord knows who else, and subconsciously, at times when my inner self was
supposed to scream 'that's bloody gorgeous', that same subconscience was
screaming, 'hey, they're taking that Beatles/Stones/Byrds/Moody Blues idea
and turning it into a cliche'. And that pretty much kills off all the fun.
The biggest problem is, Love don't actuall expand on the ideas they
borrow: Arthur Lee's paranoid personality is simply not enough to make
the finished product sound in a radically different or totally idiosyncratic
way, apart from maybe just a few songs that I could number on my fingers.
In this respect, Love is really just a second-rate band, well worth remembering
and enjoying but never really worth the pedestal some are ready to build
for them. At the very best, they're hardly any better than, say, such an
unjustly forgotten band as the Pretty Things, their rip-offey British equivalent
who only managed to somehow break away from under the shadow of the Stones
and the Kinks towards the tail end of the Sixties with S. F. Sorrow
(just as Love broke away from the shadow of the Byrds and the Beatles with
Forever Changes) - yet, for some reason, nobody ever mentions the
Pretty Things in the 'genius' row while easily bestowing that honour on
Love. I could give out more examples, actually, it's just that I happened
to be listening to Love and the Pretty Things at the same time and could
not help noticing that 'cultural similarity' between the two.
So anyway, don't consider this to be a massacre of the band itself - rather
it's just a massacre of an attitude towards the band. I do assume
that Love should be listened to only after one has browsed through
several dozen of the most important bands of the Sixties, in order to get
a clear all-encompassing picture of the epoch and Love's place in it; this
does not mean that the music itself is less than enjoyable. Enjoyable it
is. Quite a lot.
Lineup: Arthur Lee - guitar, vocals; Bryan MacLean
- guitar, vocals; John Echols - guitar; Ken Forssi - bass;
Alban Pfisterer - drums. In late 1966, Pfisterer switched to keyboards,
replaced by Michael Stuart; Tjay Cantrelli added on flute
and sax. Cantrelli and Pfisterer quit, 1967. The "new" late Sixties/
early Seventies Love, radically different from the 'first incarnation'
and concentrating more on a hard rock/eclectic edge, was: Arthur Lee, Jay
Donnellan (guitar), Frank Fayad (bass), George Suranovich
(drums). Gary Rowles replaced Donnellan in late 1969.

General Evaluation:

Listenability: 4/5. Almost
no problems with this side of the band, although stuff like 'Revelation'
is certainly abysmal.Resonance: 2/5. I respect Arthur
Lee and his problems, but I betcha anything this band sounds WAY closer
to your heart when you don't know anything about Sixties pop in general.Originality: 1/5. Forever
Changes pushes forward this one point, otherwise a big fat zero would
it be.Adequacy: 2/5. Sorry, no dice
- for a band that uninventive, they sure had a lot of artistic pretentions.Diversity: 3/5. Hard to tell
the exact number here, as some of their exercises in diversity were pretty
lame.Overall: 2.4 = D
on the rating scale.

Let's all join hands around the campfire and agree that this is a nice
album. And I'm not asking you to do that just because it has fourteen songs
on it, something definitely amazing considering that the record was released
in the United States in early 1966 (an epoch in which twelve was
the sacred number for most pop bands - and if you had fourteen, you had
to put the two best ones on a different album and write ten additional
crapfests over a time period of about half an hour); and doubly
amazing considering that Love's next album would only have exactly half
as much.

No, let's agree it's nice simply because Arthur Lee, and to a lesser extent,
Bryan MacLean, are able to display songwriting talent no matter how thickly
they are engulfed in a sea of outside influences. In a long, fierce battle
with the hypnotizing enchantment of the three big B's (Beatles, Beach Boys,
Byrds) and one big S (Stones), Lee and McLean, even though Badly Bruised
and Battered and Swatted, manage to reclaim some of their own territory
and not only prepare the grounds for a decisive counter-attack to be featured
later, but also produce several excellent folk-pop anthems that wouldn't
be out of place on anybody's stereo, let alone a Sixties junkie.
Now let's hold hands some more and come to the conclusion that Love
is, in fact, a hideous album. And I'm not asking to do that just because
it features a whole bunch of clumsily recycled and shamelessly stolen melodies,
something that could be expected at an epoch when pop songwriting was still
generally considered non-individualistic in nature and songwriting credits
were so loose that in these days you'd be perfectly able to sue
on behalf of, say, seventy percent of those. Nor am I bothered by generic
lyrics drawing on blues cliches - grating only inasmuch as they stand in
sharp contrast with Arthur Lee's ever increasing poetic ambition on later
records.
Nope, let's reach that conclusion simply because Lee, MacLean, Echols,
and whoever else may have been involved, all of them show themselves totally
lacking in original ideas. About half of these songs sound as if a Byrds
record was constantly spinning on replay all through the recording process,
with Love merely adding some extra vocals and minor instrumental modifications.
Yet another quarter is the band doing garage-style covers of garage-style
songs. (It looks like their version of 'Hey Joe' actually came out the
exact same month as the Leaves' version, though, so at least I can't accuse
them of stealing something right under somebody's nose. Relieved as I am,
I still like the Leaves' variant better). And yet another quarter is the
band rewriting its own tunes.
Split personality aside, I guess that in the final run there are three
things about this album that poisoned my appreciation in a subtly irrepairable
way and made me a little "anti-Love" in spirit from the very
beginning. Number one is 'Signed D. C.'. No one, and I mean no one,
fucks with the original 'House Of The Rising Sun'; no one should have the
gall to add new lyrics, throw on an additional pack of theatrical desperation
and credit it to one's own name. Is nothing on this planet friggin' sacred?
It's not that the listening impression, per se, is so yucky. It's just
a matter of ugly decision-taking and generally poor taste in selection
of interpretations, if you know what I mean. (Next to the Animals, though,
it is yucky because Arthur Lee is no Eric Burdon when it comes to
singing and that's not the kind of point you're allowed to take me up on
even if you're seven feet tall and I'm seven feet in the ground). Pointless
trivia note: the lyrics actually refer to the sufferings of a junkie -
which is at least novel for the time - and the D.C. is Don Conka, Love's
first drummer who was ousted out of the band for that kind of drug problems.
Doesn't make the song any better, though.
Second problem: they're so good at getting all garage-like that all their
garage anthems sound the same. Okay, two at least - Lee's "original"
'My Flash On You' and the cover of 'Hey Joe' (the second song is wisely
placed on the second side of the album so it'd be harder for you to tell
who copied who). Now garage rock may not be about complexity, but it sure
as hell ain't about always exploring the exact same chord sequences either.
What's most ironic, though, is that both these tunes would be made
completely obsolete before the year's end with the release of the third,
and ultimate, rewrite, 'Seven And Seven Is'. But the damage has already
been done.
Finally, problem number three is that Bryan MacLean's ballad 'Softly To
Me', frequently lauded as the album's most gorgeous moment, totally destroys
my ears with vocal harmonies that I can only qualify as UGLY. As subjective
and insignifcant as that may seem, it's more than just a passing quibble.
The way I see it, you either have a real good ear for vocal harmony
- like Paul McCartney or Brian Wilson - or you don't have it, and
even one very obvious case of ugly vocal harmony can serve as evidence
for your not having it. Agree or disagree, I cringe every time I hear the
'dance and sing my life away - life away...' line, where the backing vocals
"trip" the main part and break up the flow in a most violent
manner, and a reaction is a reaction. I'd much rather envision 'Softly
To Me' as a quiet, relaxed soft-jazz instrumental. As a ballad, it just
speaks W-E-A-K in my ear.
All of these quibbles can be resurrected on a global level. Clumsy arrangements
and copycat syndrome never really helped anyone. Of course, there's talent
involved, too, and with fourteen songs laid out in a row, much of it is
bound to be good as well. Garage stylistics may not work so well on 'My
Flash On You', but it's perfect on their cover of Burt Bacharach's 'My
Little Red Book' - the album's best known song and the famous inspiration
for Pink Floyd's 'Interstellar Overdrive' (don't even ask me, though, about
what's so similar between the two - according to legend, Syd Barrett picked
the melody up from the ears of band manager Peter Jenner, which would certainly
explain a lot).
The more direct Byrds imitations are quite pleasant as well, since there's
more stylistic borrowing involved rather than good old plain ripping off,
and also because Love have too much energy to allow themselves to be as
openly lethargic as the Byrds could often be. Check out, for instance,
the frantic - and surprisingly lengthy - soloing on 'Gazing', where they
manage to turn the patented Byrds jangle into overdriven, hot-rocking guitar
pummeling, with a crescendo that's as well thought out as it is loaded
with spontaneous energy. We might even overlook the fact that the melody
copies... nay, not the Byrds, but rather the universally known Phil Spector
'And Then He/She Kissed Me/You/It/The Thing' number, remember, the "dum...
dee-dum dum dum... dee-dum dum dum..." sequence? Because they're really
getting it on, and I wouldn't allow myself to condemn anybody in the process
of really getting it on. 'Can't Explain' is a minor highlight as well,
despite stealing the title from the Who, a couple melodic lines from the
Stones, and... ah well.
There's also a bunch of straightforward folk-pop songs that pretend to
little other than simply stating the hook a few times and going away -
nothing wrong with that kind of honest-to-goodness approach. 'No Matter
What You Do' may not be as immediately overwhelming as the later Badfinger
song of the same name, but it eventually gets there, and there's more of
those delicious 'Gazing'-like solo trills in the middle. 'You I'll Be Following'
is happy, anthemic, and sing-alongable. 'Colored Balls Falling' and 'And
More' are, well, and more of the same - for some reason, both start
with the exact same chord sequence, though, a problem not atypical of the
album in general, as you already know by now.
In the end, though, as hard as it is to choose when you're in the three-minute-idolising
Sixties, I'd give my overall preferences to 'Mushroom Clouds'. Not only
is it credited to four band members at once - and in the case of Love,
that's always a plus, because all of the individual members have their
serious limitations - it's also the closest in style to Forever Changes,
with a delicate, graceful acoustic versus acoustic arrangement and soft,
airy, vaguely medievalistic vocal arrangements that are as much "not
of this earth" as the ones on their garage songs are of this and this
one only. It's the only song off the album that, at that particular time,
could only have been recorded by Love and nobody else. Which is not saying
much, but then aren't Love overrated in the first place?

The first side of Da Capo is probably the best side ever to have
come out from under the hands and instruments of the Love guys - the best
in that it has a certain identity. A clumsy, mixed-up, and essentially
clueless identity, but still... nice. By now Love sported the hugest line-up
- seven persons, including Tjay Cantrelli on brass and new drummer
Michael Stuart ("Snoopy" Pfisterer moved to keyboards), and were
intent on actually adding something to rock's musical legacy. In terms
of musical innovation, there was very little to add here, but the album
does sport this folksy-psychedelic vibe that the Byrds, Love's chief
inspiration for their first album, didn't really share: the Byrds preferred
to separate their 'folk-rock' and 'psycho' sides, while Love try to incorporate
the two within a single song. So you get all those essentially folksy songs,
with acoustic rhythm tracks and countryesque vocals, on top of which they
slam harpsichords, ominous groovy basslines, special effects, add occasionally
trippy lyrics, etc. The result is not exactly breathtaking, but it's really
nice, and it's certainly a far more significant advance for the band than
their "masterpiece" Forever Changes, with its generic
orchestration and easily recognizable Moody Blue-isms and Brian Wilson-isms,
could ever hope to be. There's a certain strong idiosyncrasy here which
makes this style unmistakable, and that gladdens my heart.

All of the six songs on the first side are written by Arthur Lee, and they're
all good, if, granted, not equally memorable. Two of the tracks are 'psycho
rockers', and it's funny to notice how the menacing riff that drives forward
'Stephanie Knows Who' is actually similar to Pink Floyd's 'Astronomy Domine'
- coincidence, most certainly, but a typically sixty-sevenish type
of coincidence. Can't say I'm enamoured of the song otherwise, though:
Arthur's punkish screaming is contrived and uncertain, and hardly compatible
with the gleeful waltz tempo of the song and the careening harpsichord.
However, 'Seven And Seven Is', the band's only single that managed to scale
the middle ranges of the charts, is a different thing - the drumming alone
is worth a shot, but there's also all these angry riffs and this mad rush
to the end that climaxes in a 'nuclear explosion', making the song a superb
blast of proto-punkish anger.
The 'psycho ballads', though, are really up a notch, with Lee reaching
a peak of sorts. He's throwing out all those cute vocal hooks, his pleading
gentle vocals can't be beat, and the arrangements are as romantic and honestly
beautiful as possible. For instance, 'She Comes In Colours' is not as much
driven forward by the guitar as it is by that nuage-abiding flute in the
background, and the harpsichord, as predictable as it is (there's a harpsichord
on almost every track on here - as if it was the presence of a harpsichord
that determined the 'psycho' status of a song!), adds further grace. 'Orange
Skies' and 'The Castle' aren't as memorable, but they're also trippier,
with Lee's mind firmly rooted in the psychedelic vibe. Hmm, 'The Castle'
is essentially a fast-paced country song - can't you hear it? Give it some
banjo to make it more obvious! Or better not, because it works fine as
it is with the choppy bassline and the harpsichord.
My favourite on here is still 'Que Vida!', as the melody of that number
is firmly established from the very first seconds and Lee's singing along
with the flute/organ is quite endearing. Note, though, that the organ again
plays that much-abused 'descending' pattern so typical for psychedelic
arrangements - these guys didn't have that much imagination, after all.
Flute and harpsichord, again.
Still, diverse or no, these are six good songs, definitely dated but in
a good way at that (i.e., in a 'nostalgic' way, if you wish). A hint of
originality, a touch of genuine emotion, you know the score. Oh, and an
ounce of talent, of course. Which, however, is nowhere to be seen on the
second side. So far, I haven't yet met a single person who hasn't condemned
the nineteen-minute long jam 'Revelation' as a boring piece of crap, and
I'm not gonna play the fool and pretend that it's a work of genius, either.
The only excuse that's usually offered for it is that 'Revelation' was
the first example of occupying an entire album side with just one song,
but that's plain wrong - Dylan's 'Sad-Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands' came out
at least half a year before. Moreover, what 'Revelation' essentially does
is completely rip-off the Rolling Stones' 'Goin' Home', right down to Arthur
Lee's hysterics in the studio as he sputters out 'I feel all right, I feel
so good, so good'. Trust me, does he ever sound like a complete idiot on
that one, especially if you've heard the truly groundbreaking
'Goin' Home' before. Sure, 'Revelation' is longer, has a different melody
and includes several lengthy instrumental passages (most of them totally
incompetent, kinda like a blueprint for the VU's 'European Son'), but the
principle is the same. Only 'Goin' Home' was subtle and inventive, not
to mention dark and menacing - towards the end, Jagger effectively transformed
the simple blues number into a creepy shadowy thing, while Lee just plays
the idiot throughout. One thing this guy should have been prohibited is
screaming - every time he bellows 'Yeaaaaah!' I get visions of rabid bulldogs
biting off somebody's testicles. Or something like that.
Too bad, since predictably, the second side just totally ruins the entire
experience. Yep, it was 1967, and everybody wanted to experiment; problem
is, some guys experiment better than others, and with such an ultra-stupid
'experimental' piece as 'Revelation' I can easily understand that Love
didn't want to take any more chances in that direction and retreated to
safe and sound territory on Forever Changes. As such, I find a real
problem in recommending Da Capo to anybody - you'd probably be better
off by following David Goodwin's recommendations in his comments to the
next album and getting all the good stuff on a compilation. Why waste money
on nineteen minutes of universal despisal?

If these guys didn't have such a nice feel for melodic flow, I'd
have sued them for lack of imagination...

Best song: A HOUSE IS NOT A MOTEL

Track listing:1) Alone Again Or;
2) A House Is Not A Motel; 3) Andmoreagain;
4) The Daily Planet; 5) Old Man; 6) The Bed Telephone; 7) Maybe The People
Would Be The Times Or Between Clark And Hilldale; 8) Live And Let Live;
9) The Good Humor Man He Sees Everything Like This; 10) Bummer In The Summer;
11) You Set The Scene.

It is symbolic that the album appeared on the American market in December
1967 - with all of its multiple facets, it was a perfect "summary"
for all the trippy excesses and psychedelic fantasies of rock's most imaginative
and 'liberatory' year. Unfortunately, the same time of appearance also
hints at a thorough lack of imagination and new ideas, a thing that most
American Love fans don't seem to realize. With Forever Changes,
Love carved itself an artsy/psychedelic identity which was one hundred
percent derivative of just about everybody who mattered in 1967.

Truly and verily, hearing Forever Changes before everything else
and out of chronological context would certainly lead somebody to assuming
the record's "uniqueness" and placing it into any kind of personal
Top Tens. But upon hearing this stuff for the first time, I was certainly
underwhelmed, and, contrary to my expectations, this feeling of "cheat"
didn't grow any less with subsequent listens. What I hear is a band desperately
trying to hang onto the coattails of their betters. Influences on here
include the Beatles (naturally), the Beach Boys (Pet Sounds is like
a blueprint for half of these songs), the Moody Blues (don't tell me these
guys hadn't studied Days Of Future Passed throughout!), Pink Floyd
(in certain of the more 'trippy' passages), Hendrix (the fiery guitar workouts),
and even the Jefferson Airplane ('Bummer In The Summer' is essentially
just a rip-off of 'Plastic Fantastic Lover'). And I'm sorry, Love fans
out there, but not in a single case are Arthur Lee and company able to
beat any of the bands/artists named above on their own ground.
Which is not to say Forever Changes is a bad album - it just isn't
the "epochal lost classic" it's always made out to be by fans.
The fact that the album stalled at around #150 on the charts back at the
time of release was a crime, but it definitely wasn't criminal enough to
justify all the hype out there; and even today, I can fully understand
the reasons for which Love are so revered for this album in their homeland,
yet almost entirely neglected in Europe: in Europe, there's simply no need
for an album like Forever Changes, whereas the American public certainly
needs its own Sgt Pepper of 1967 - and this is the most obvious
choice.
Now don't crucify me, because all the previous paragraphs were actually
concentrated on discussing one idea: "this album ain't worth a fifteen/fourteen".
It is certainly worth a twelve, though, and it certainly contains its share
of magnificent pop songs worth having in anybody's collection. The emphasis
throughout is on "orchestrated pop" - for the most part, acoustic
pop, with a few electric lines thrown in now and then and a brass section
stepping in from time to time. However, the primary difference from Pet
Sounds is that everything is mighty surrealistic - from the album cover,
with the band's faces all slammed into one large face, to the lyrics, that
are hippiesque and often nonsensic to the core (but, unlike the Beatles,
the band never really had a nice sense of humour, so you won't be smiling
all that often while listening to this). The saving grace are the vocal
melodies, which range from well-written and memorable to just mood-setting,
and Arthur Lee's gorgeous singing, which is often able to elevate even
something lightweight into something grandiose.
As far as instrumentation goes, the orchestral arrangements by David Angel
are definitely nice, and "dated" only inasmuch as they naturally
pinpoint the album to a specific epoch, that is, in the same way that J.
S. Bach's music is "dated" by definition. But the band's playing
is so-so; with most of the players hiding behind the endless orchestral
passages and simplistic acoustic strumming, there are hardly any hints
at the lineup's potential. Which is probably my favourite song on the album
is 'A House Is Not A Motel' - for those who've never heard Love, it's like
a Moody Blues rocker crossed with Cream guitar heroics, but it certainly
gives the guitar players a chance to really stretch out on the blazing
coda, and Michael Stuart's fast martial style drumming is near-perfect,
while Lee's trembling, wavering vocals create an atmosphere of paranoia
and weird desperation.
Apart from that, there are only two songs that have any 'rockin' potential'
- the best of which is 'Live And Let Live', forever distinguished by the
"all the snot has caked against my pants, it has turned into crystal"
line; the vocal melodic power of the song is irrefutable, the guitar solos
are smokin', and the acoustic riffage of the song defines the word "dreamy"
- which means that all the necessary ingredients are in place. The second
one is 'Bummer In The Summer', whose vocal melody, as I already said, had
been taken from the Airplane's 'Plastic Fantastic Lover' - and, for some
reason, interchanged with a Bo Diddley beat. To be frank with you, I don't
like the song at all - short, pointless and derivative.
Not to forget that Arthur Lee wasn't the only songwriter in the band: 'Alone
Again Or' is Bryan MacLean's masterpiece, an Eastern-influenced chant that's
based on an excellent "vocal crescendo", you could say. His second
contribution, 'Old Man', has even more angelic vocals (MacLean sings lead
vocals himself - and he's hardly got a worse set of chords than Mr Lee),
but maybe is a little less developed musically, more like a simple folkish
melody, lacking the inventive strings arrangement of 'Alone Again Or';
still, I like the Byrds, so I find myself obliged to like this.
Other highlights (and yes, there are more highlights than lowlights on
this record - okay, you caught me, I am saying this! Hey, I never
said I didn't like the album! What's all the fuss about?), anyway, other
higlights include: 'AndMoreAgain', which is the one case of Mr Lee being
able to prove that he is able to beat Roger McGuinn and Justin Hayward
at a hyper-romantic ballad extorting pools of tears from the eyes of the
more sensible listeners; the funny pop shuffle 'Daily Planet', in which
the vocal melody is taken off George Harrison's 'If I Needed Someone',
but let's pretend we never heard that; the Floydish 'Red Telephone', with
all of its otherworldly fade-in vocals and mysterious harpsichord; and
'The Good Humor Man He Sees Everything Like This', where the main attraction
is that enchanting harp riff plucked between the verses.
The song with the lengthy ungrammatical title didn't seem that great to
me, but in any case, the only tune I actively dislike on here is the final
'You Set The Scene' which certainly doesn't deserve a seven-minute running
time. Not for a song that begins with such a trivial pop melody and has
no audible hooks - nothing but "the ingredients": i.e., there's
lots of acoustic guitar, soulful vocals, orchestration and brass, but they
don't combine together to produce anything of substance. A very poor ending
for such an overall nice album.
That said, Forever Changes is certainly a record of some appeal.
I certainly hold the middle ground on it, but it's made in the vein of
Pet Sounds, which means it is an album that's supposed to create
almost religious adoration - it will either speak to you on the most gutsy
level, which will turn you into a Love fan in no time, or it won't speak
to you at all. It doesn't really speak to me; I find the unoriginality
factor a bit too high to let it sink too deep, and Arthur Lee's stupid
lyrics (and they are stupid! At least the Doors had some kind of
message - these guys don't have anything) really get on my nerves. In other
words, I have all the reasons to doubt the 'sincerity' of the album. But
if YOU happen to find these reasons unsubstantial and 'overlookable', feel
free to raise this rating as much as you want. But don't go on spilling
rubbish about how Forever Changes is one of the greatest albums
of all time. If there ever was something like an objective approach
to albums, such a statement would be blasphemous to the core.
P.S.: My greatest thanks go to Mr Fredrik Tydal, who was kind enough to
mail his copy of the album to me all the way from Sweden. Apparently, Russians
tolerate a lot of music but not Love, which is why it's virtually impossible
to find any Love albums here. Not yet, at least.

It is my deepest conviction that as much as the 'early period Love'
can be overrated, the 'late period Love' can be underrated. No, it's not
as if Arthur Lee suddenly prayed to his preferred deity and was rewarded
with an increase in genius potential; it's just that overall, there aren't
any fewer ideas on here than on Forever Changes. Maybe it's the
lack of Bryan MacLean that pisses off fans, I don't know. Anyway, Out
Here was the second "new Love" album, and formally a throwaway,
comprised of outtakes and leftovers from the sessions for its predecessor,
Four Sail. And a BIG bunch of leftovers it was, enough to make the
end product a double LP, although to be fair, it is padded with two lengthy
tracks, one including a drum solo and another one including a guitar jam.

This could be a disaster, but it hardly is; in fact, I like the very idea
because it gives the band enough opportunity to stretch out and try their
hand at all kinds of genres, from the usual lush pop of the days of yore
to psychedelic blues to funk to country-rock to ska. Need I add that the
old "derivative factor" strikes again here? Formally, this is
nothing short of a Love' White Album, and substantially, Lee again
draws on a whole ragbag of influences. Doubtlessly, he got one of his cues
from the 'new Byrds', with their strange "twin schtick" of mixing
hard rock tunes with light countryish material. Another cue, without a
doubt, was taken from Eric Burdon and his Animals, and a bad cue at that.
If the old version of 'Signed D. C.' was ripped off of 'House Of The Rising
Sun', then the remake of the tune, bravely posted as Track 3, is ripped
off of Eric Burdon's contemporary 'soulful' deliveries and is far
more hideous - didn't 'Revelation' teach Arthur a thing or two? No, he
prefers to wail and shriek again, and the song, already dead at the time
of birth, is killed once again. Why does the intro sound like 'Nights In
White Satin', anyway? Ah shit. How come he includes a blazing funk number
and calls it 'Stand Out'? Who does he think he is? Sly?
Never mind. Let's just close our eyes and pretend rock music never existed
before Out Here, and the good thing is, apart from the bullshit
vocals on 'Signed D. C.', every other song has something to offer. Yes,
even the two lengthy numbers. 'Doggone' actually starts out as a pretty
folksy ballad, with gentle seducing vocals and a totally authentic acoustic
part; as for the main part of it, which is a drum solo, is actually fun
for a while because they use these stupid electronic enhancements on the
drums to make it sound like they're being played underwater. Pretty weird,
too. Love might be an unoriginal band, but you gotta admit nobody had ever
tried merging a pretty acoustic ballad with an electronic drum solo before.
Give 'em props. MAD props.
The second lengthy track, 'Love Is More Than Words', likewise starts out
as a slightly clumsy pop number before turning into an echoey ominous guitar
fiesta, obviously inspired by Hendrix. Is it good or bad? You should ask
a technician; me, I like the energy level, but, of course, twelve minutes
really try my patience. You could argue the guitar part was so good that
Jimi himself, inspired and awed, payed the guys a tribute by appearing
on their next studio album. Then again, you could also argue Jimi was so
disgusted he preferred to play on the next record himself rather than allow
his style to be profanated once more. Kind of an indirect blackmail thing,
if you get my drift.
The shorter tracks are all decent, though. There's some first-rate power-pop
like 'I'll Pray For You', whose somewhat incoherent verses are a nice match
for the catchy funny chorus, or the Pretty Things-ish 'I Still Wonder'
with shiver-sending blasts of feedback perfectly contrasting with the heavenly
vocal harmonies. 'Run To The Top' is a bit bubble-gummy, but only a little
bit. You couldn't really blow a bubble with it. The "rootsy"
side of the band is well represented with the country shuffle 'Abalony',
which is as stupid as it is charming, and occasional goofy throwaways like
'Car Lights On In The Daytime Blues' or the ridiculous anti-war sendup
'Discharged' ('I just killed all the enemy so you can sleep tonight'!).
And the rockin' side is well-edged on 'I'm Down' which, strange as it seems,
is NOT a Beatles cover despite having the lyrics 'I'm down, down on the
ground' as well.
I won't list every song on here - some more nice ballads, a funny ska ditty,
etc. - but the thing is, it's obviously a consistent effort. The
very fact that Arthur Lee could release a double album on his own, without
any songwriting assistance from Bryan MacLean (lead guitarist Jay Donnellan
co-works with Lee on a couple of tracks, but that's all) obviously proves
the thing I have always assumed to be true, namely, that Arthur had a good
deal of songwriting talent. True, there's no identity whatsoever to this
album; you could hardly believe that 'Abalony' and 'Signed D. C.', following
each other, were written by the same person. But at least, except for a
few numbers with presumably generic melodies, I can't really accuse Mr
Lee of directly stealing anything on here. I find the album a total gas
as a result, and seeing as it's available on a single CD, the best thing
you could do at the moment would be to go out and grab it, leftovers or
not. It doesn't get a 10 because it's not the best listening Love experience,
and besides, no album with an abomination like 'Signed D. C.' should get
a ten, but... it's close.

Again, not too many Love fans are pleased with this record, and for
obvious reasons: if you're looking for anything even remotely tied in with
Forever Changes, just forget it. THIS is different. The previous
"Mark II" Love albums started the trend, this one brings it to
a logical conclusion: False Start is, from beginning to end, what
we call a 'roots-rock' album, albeit with a few poppy overtones from time
to time. It's also quite guitar-heavy, screaming-heavy, funk-heavy, whatever,
and also very short, barely going over thirty minutes with but ten songs.

But dammit, it's good. As uncool as it would be to say so, this,
not psychedelia and Byrdsey folk-rock, is what Arthur Lee had an inborn
talent for. All of these songs sound natural and easy-going, and for the
first time I can't really accuse Arthur of pilfering any ideas to use them
for inferior purposes. I mean, occasionally the music is formulaic - the
barroom blues-rock jamming of 'Flying' isn't a particular eye opener, nor
is the country blues stylization on 'Keep On Shining' something previously
unheard of - but it's one thing when you drool at a freshly produced musical
revolution (Byrds, Sgt Pepper) trying to simulate it as soon and
as rough as possible, and another thing when you exploit the blues pattern
like a nice traditional lad, without too much fuss.
All of the songs are good as a result, and since there are no lengthy jams
to try out your stamina, just short snappy hook-filled songs, this has
almost immediately - on second listen, actually, which is a marvel - taken
its place as my second favourite Love album. Too bad it's so short. But
you know an album must be good when Jimi Hendrix in person makes a guest
appearance on the first track ('The Everlasting First' - indeed!), and
the track actually is the worst on the record, because while Jimi's
wah-wah breaks are fabulous as usual, there's not much else going on in
this rocker, messy and jagged as it is. Almost sounds like it was cut out
of a sloppy jam session... probably was, actually, seeing as how after
the initial weird noises (sounds like some tape chewed up) the track breaks
straight inside your speaker with a wild but non-introductive scream and
a Jimi break without a warning.
But who cares? The best song here is still 'Slick Dick' - how often have
you heard a song so fucked up? Begins as a totally innocent bystanding
fast country rocker, then just a minute into the song changes pace and
becomes a violent funker with explosive 'psychedelic' playing from Gary
Rowles before changing pace once again and this time becoming a firm steady
blues-rocker with some of the most violent screaming ever captured on tape
by Arthur. You just gotta hear him go 'DRIVE ME INSANE! DRIIIIIVE! DRAAAAAAAIVE!'
Man, where was that scream when the original Love were recording 'Revelation'?
Likewise, 'Ride That Vibration' is also a pretty deceptive number - beginning
like a basic pop-rocker a la Hollies or early Beatles, it makes
the transition to aggressive blues/funk jamming and backwards so quietly
you sometimes catch yourself on a thought like 'hey... when the hell did
they change tracks?'
The less "adventurous" tracks also have their hooks. 'Flying'
would seduce you through its very repetitiveness - by the n-th time Arthur
chants 'oh, flying's a wonderful thing', you're ready to take off (I mean
it!). 'Gimi A Little Break' (sic! was the spelling inspired by Jimi's visit
into the studio or what?) isn't a highlight but you gotta love the way
Lee sings 'sha-ee-aaa-ee-aaa-ine'. The live version of 'Stand Out' displays
energy and drive, and amazingly fluent distorted bass from Frank Fayad.
'Keep On Shining' I could describe as a 'country-blues shuffle sung in
a typically black voice', if that would mean something to you - I know
the vocals on the song really do it for me, personally. And 'Love Is Coming'?
What the hell is THAT? Soul? Funk? Poppy psychedelia? Whatever. The album's
all over the place. The songs are SO messy your head will be swoosh-going
round in a minute. No melody lasts longer than thirty seconds... it may
eventually come back, of course, but there's so much turbulency and so
many unpredictable surprises around each corner that False Start
seems like a pretty good title. But boy is the album cover a rip-off of
The Soft Parade.
In short, False Start really displays some awesome creativity from
a band (a man?) who had by then already dismissed as pretty much a lame
remnant of the hippie epoch - it's up to you now, oh listener/reader, to
realize that this late period Love was not at all a "profanation"
of the original band as is sometimes suggested, but rather a typical reaction
to the musical process of 'getting back to the roots' going on at the time.
Like the Beatles, Beach Boys, Byrds, Rolling Stones, and others, Arthur
Lee came back to a psychedelia-free world, and thus found new creative
freedom - of course, this was the kind of freedom that's mixed with paranoia
and musical uncertainty, but I'd better have Mr Madman running around without
getting the uneasy feeling of his licking the boots of his superiors/peers.
Whatever. That last line wasn't very good, but the actual music of the
album doesn't exactly help my writing style. In fact, IT IS DISORIENTING
ME RIGHT NOW! So let me just put an end to this endless review of the Rolling
Stones' Larks' Tongues And The Moneygoround and get back to planting
cabbage.